Isle of the Lost
by Evanescence2189
Summary: There will always be a new game to play, just with higher stakes and battling odds. This time, Peter Pan finds himself in a world he can't control, chasing after a woman he never thought he would need, while dodging the promise of death on his heels. But he's never once broken a promise, and he isn't about to start now. Sequel to "Isle of Thorns." Peter/Wendy
1. Paradise Lost

**Summary: There will always be a new game to play, just with higher stakes and battling odds. This time, Peter Pan finds himself in a world he can't control, chasing after a woman he never thought he would need, while dodging the promise of death on his heels. But he's never once broken a promise, and he isn't about to start now. Sequel to "Isle of Thorns."**

**AN: And so begins the first chapter of **_**Isle of the Lost**_**. All comments, suggestions, likes, dislikes, and requests are welcome!**

* * *

_~Isle of the Lost~_

"_I've been settling scores__  
__I've been fighting so long__  
__But I've lost your war__  
__And our kingdom is gone."_

– _Pentatonix, "Run to You"_

_Part I:_ Paradise Lost

When Peter opened his eyes and the world stopped spinning, he was sitting on grass and dead leaves, looking up at trees that stretched into the sky.

And he was alone.

The feel of Wendy lingered against his skin, but he was all too aware of the emptiness now that he sat in the middle of nowhere. He stood up and was about to call out for her, but the sounds of others shouting to one another silenced him. Peter could see that he was just within the edge of a forest that broke abruptly into a large and open field, an expanse of green where a crowd was gathered near a gazebo. There a young couple, finely dressed and understandably shocked, beckoned them closer. Both had the air of royalty about them, and he was willing to bet they were the king and queen of this part of the land.

Peter ducked into the nearest bushes, as close to the edge as he dared, waited for them to come closer into view, and eventually recognized the Prince and Snow White amongst scatterings of Storybrook residents. He listened as they spoke of how the land had changed in their absence, of how the ogres had been finally defeated, how there was finally peace. But Peter detected a subtle shift in the young queen's gaze when she spoke, something in her eyes that betrayed a silent unease, though she pretended differently. He filed that observation away for later and focused on the fact that the Prince and Snow White's castle still stood, and they would be making sure Regina came along.

Only then did Peter realize the witch stood slightly behind Snow White, a mask of indifference hiding deep pain that Peter knew he'd caused. He didn't see Emma or Henry. They must have escaped the curse, making Regina pay the price of altering it. It was almost satisfying.

_But not enough._

He needed to see it in her eyes, hear her beg for surrender from the agony he'd felt. And how could he forget the misery the Evil Queen had inflicted on Wendy? Sentencing her father to a fate worse than death, followed by sending Wendy off to what she'd believed was an even lesser fortune.

So when they finally turned away from the couple, Peter followed within the cover of the trees and listened for how they decided to continue. He watched as one of the dwarves—Grumpy, one of many he remembered meeting in Storybrook—approached the Prince and told him of fifty or so people from the town that had just landed a couple miles off, and something within Peter involuntarily lurched.

"Is everyone accounted for?" Snow asked.

"No, we think some of them landed farther away, since not everyone was in the square when we were sent back," her husband replied.

"That explains why I can't find my father." That one was Neal. Peter couldn't see him properly, but he immediately recognized his voice, then that of Belle. At first he'd thought she was Wendy; they were of similar build and complexion, and long dark waves of hair. But the voice was not the soft lilt he knew, nor were her eyes green, though they were as vibrant and expressive, displaying all the worry and determination one could possess at the thought of their loved one being lost.

"Maybe we could swing by his place if we can't find him with the others, see if he's there."

"We've already given word to the others to meet at our castle," David pointed out. "Why don't you wait to see if he's with them? If not, we'll see if he's at home."

Neither Neal nor Belle looked particularly happy about waiting, but Neal nodded and moved on with the rest. Peter followed at a distance as the group trekked through the forest, only pausing to watch as the others reacted to a sudden attack on Regina and Snow White. He hadn't seen what happened, but the fact that Regina had injured her pride by being saved by a common thief brought him some amusement.

Regina's voice made Peter's blood boil, but he let the anger simmer under the surface. He needed to be of clear mind before he made any step forward. He couldn't rely on his own power anymore, and now couldn't even rely on Wendy. Both stung.

_She could be with the others than landed, you haven't seen everyone yet,_ he thought. But even then, they would be sure to bring her forward, question her as to his whereabouts for sure. Then again, he didn't know how much Rumpelstiltskin told them, perhaps that Pan had spared his life. Peter wanted to rub his temples in sheer frustration. He'd lost his power, his Lost Boys, his island—everything that made him who he was, everything he'd fought so long and so hard to keep with mind games and deals and magic. He lost his kingdom.

_And where the hell am I now? _he thought._ Alone in the Enchanted-fucking-Forest watching the people who want to kill me. _

Peter inwardly sighed, crouched into the safety of low-hanging trees and bushes when the group stopped at the road to the castle ahead, and continued his silent observations. Regina stepped forward and tentatively reached out a hand, starting slightly when a green force field blocked her path and became visible. It covered the entire kingdom, a powerful spell that made Peter curious as to who could have placed it. Regina looked furious as hell, determined to figure out exactly that.

"Rushing in there is a bad plan, Regina. You know that," Snow White implored, trying to placate the queen who already seemed to be in a delicate state of emotions.

"I can offer safe harbor in Sherwood Forest, it's not far," said the thief, though Peter still didn't know his name. "There is food, shelter, and a thick canopy no creature can tear through."

"Do you have weapons?" asked the Prince.

"Some, yes."

"Fine, lead the way. But we're coming back," Regina insisted. "And whoever did this…is going to suffer."

"Regina, it's our home," said Snow. "We'll make it safe again."

* * *

Peter reluctantly followed them to Sherwood Forest, biding his time as more and more Storybrook residents began to come through the campsite and reunite with friends and loved ones. He watched Neal become exceedingly restless as the Dark One had yet to arrive, which in and of itself was odd considering both his son and Belle waited for him.

While he scanned the crowds for any sign of familiar russet hair, Peter mulled over the new threat to Snow White and the Prince's kingdom, the Wicked Witch. He'd never met her, but if she managed to ruffle Regina's feathers without even a proper introduction, who was he to get in the middle of any of it? All he wanted was to find Wendy and get the hell out, by any means necessary.

"It's been hours and some are still missing," Peter heard Grumpy say to the Prince. "It's like they've disappeared."

"Are you sure? You've scouted far enough?"

"We're sure. We had Red on it," said the dwarf. "She caught the mingled scents of a crowd a few miles away, but they cut off without a trace."

David looked pensive, matching the sudden unease in the pit of Peter's stomach. If the trail was suddenly lost, magic was sure to be involved. And if his instincts were right, then this…Wicked Witch was the soon to be regretful culprit. This was only confirmed in his mind when he saw Wendy's brothers, John and Michael, arrive at the campsite without their sister. Something had gone wrong.

It was then that he noticed Neal and Belle making their escape into the woods heading south. Now he had a choice to make: either follow the Prince's band of dwarves and whoever else he would send to find the missing, or follow after Neal and track down Rumpelstiltskin, the one person who would be powerful enough, _and_ willing to help Peter get to Wendy.

He ducked into the shadows, trailing his grandson's wake.

* * *

"It shouldn't be much farther than another mile or so," said Neal, and Belle looked over at him with a soft smile. This was Rumple's son, so stubborn and determined like his father. She could see the resemblance plain as day. But she also noted a similar look in his eyes, a soul that had lost love in life, and not just the recent loss of Emma and Henry that she knew was eating at him.

"You think?" she asked. It made her want to get to know him even more, to befriend the man Rumple spoke of so fondly and reverently.

"Yeah, I remember this hill in the road here," he said, and turned to help Belle up the steepest part of the incline. "We could have gone around it, now that I think about it."

"Ah, well," Belle tried not to huff a breath once they were over and nearly on level ground. "What's a little exercise?"

Neal cracked a small grin in response, but paused when he heard the crunch of dead leaves and a snapped branch. His expression went blank, but he gestured with his eyes for Belle to keep walking with him.

"That may be true, but I think we can cut through these trees," he said, steering them left. "If I remember right, the castle isn't too far."

* * *

Peter inwardly cursed, kicking himself for making such an amateur mistake. But to be fair, he hadn't had to walk this far for anything in a very long time, and hadn't had to be much stealthy about it either. He let them wander ahead, retreating farther into the cover of the trees as they crossed from the road into the forest. After a few beats he followed after them, mentally cursing again when their path was no longer obvious. He couldn't hear them either.

_That's odd._

And then a branch nearly took his head off, would have if his instincts hadn't screamed at him to duck and turn, taking in the dagger being pointed in his direction by Neal and the hefty branch Belle brandished.

"_You_," Neal seethed.

"Ah, Baelfire, not happy to see me?" Peter quipped, making sure to keep an adequate distance between them.

"Oh no, I'm damn near _ecstatic_," Neal spat. "My evil teenage grandfather is paying me a visit after separating me from my son. And I hear you don't have your mojo anymore. Kinda stupid if you ask me."

"Oh yes, sorry about that," Peter said darkly, voice dripping with sarcasm and mock sincerity, "but I do believe that makes us _even_."

Neal looked confused for a second, but it only took that long for him to realize Peter's meaning.

"That was an accident."

"But it was your fault all the same." Peter's eyes were hard and cold, the anger simmering just under the surface. His hands itched with the magic he no longer had at his disposal. "Count yourself lucky you know they are _safe_, and _alive_. I thought she was _dead_."

Belle looked over at Neal with wide eyes, confused as to how he could have been responsible for Wendy's coma. Neal's jaw clenched, but he realized then that there was a great deal that Peter Pan and Rumpelstiltskin had in common. Their views on revenge, the high price they put on those who crossed them, seemed to run in the family. Along with acquiring power.

"Then what do you want? My father told us you woke her."

_That he gave up his power to wake her_, which at the time he could hardly believe after everything Pan had put him and his family through. Neal watched as Pan's expression became somewhat guarded.

"She's missing," he admitted after a moment's hesitance. "She didn't arrive here with me, and she wasn't with the others that found their way to Sherwood Forest. Like our dear Rumple."

"So…what, you want my father's help? Or you think they're in the same place, wherever they are," asked Neal, trying to make sense of Peter's motives.

"Well, that depends on what happens when we find him," Peter said with a slight smirk.

"Wait, wait, '_we?_'" said Belle, watching Peter warily.

"Why should we trust you?" Neal asked in agreement. He kept the dagger pointed towards Peter.

"Is it not obvious?" Peter asked, feigning innocence. "We share a common goal: finding the ones we have lost. After we succeed, I'll be off, never to be seen by you again. I made a deal with Rumple before we crash-landed here."

"Oh yeah? What was it then?" Neal asked, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. He knew his father had said Pan would no longer be a threat, but he hadn't specified any kind of arrangement other than saying Pan was now powerless.

"If I left his family alone from now on, he would do the same for me."

"And not bring you to Regina," Belle added. Peter glanced at her and smirked at her boldness.

"Ah, that's right. She isn't quite fond of me at the moment, is she?"

"That's why you were hiding and sneaking around," Neal supplied. "Something tells me she would love to have a chat with you over coffee."

"Sadly, I prefer tea," Peter said flatly. After a tense silence of Peter and Neal staring at one another, the latter weighing the pros and cons of his next choice, and Belle watching at both uneasily, Neal sighed.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight for a second, hear me?"

"I wouldn't dream of anything else."

* * *

"If there's anyone that can defeat that witch and get you back to your family, it's the Dark One," Belle told Neal as she flipped through book after book. "He might not be here, but a way to find him has to be."

They'd searched the entire castle, but hadn't found Rumpelstiltskin. They hadn't even found anything of his to use for a locator spell. His clothes and spinning wheel and anything that could have been deemed exclusively Rumpelstiltskin's was missing, which Belle thought was more than strange. All that was left were things he had acquired through deals, and neither Neal nor Peter thought that counted. That didn't mean they were entirely out of luck, however.

"You really believe in him, don't you?" asked Neal, turning to her as he thumbed through a dusty tome.

"I love him," she said simply. With a smile, she leaned against the long wooden table that spanned the room. "All of him. Even…even the parts that belong to the darkness."

Peter, though he outwardly seemed to be engrossed in skimming books in the far corner of the study, heard the hope and wistfulness in her tone, the deep emotions she obviously felt for his son. It sounded achingly familiar.

_How can there be such people in this world that could be so naïve, so trusting as to give their heart to…to a monster, a beast knowing so very little of love? How can they be so strong of spirit, yet so fragile? _

"…Yeah, it took me a while to see past all that," he admitted. "The good man trying to get out."

"He did get out," she corrected. After a moment, Neal nodded and turned to her.

"Yeah…he did get out. Irony is, now I need the dark part in order to get to the ones I care about."

He toyed with a chain that hung from his gloved hand, smiled when Belle asked what it was. So curious, was his father's Belle.

"A necklace," he held it up to show her, the swan impressed in the silver coin glinting in the firelight. "It was Emma's…was supposed to represent our life together…I don't know how it survived the trip."

Belle smiled warmly.

"Because, it was born out of true love," she said softly, then raised her voice so that the other occupant of the room would hear her. "Now come on, both of you, I think I know where we can find what we need."

She led them to the library, a large and spacious room filled with more books than one person could read in a lifetime.

"You think there's magic in here?" Neal asked.

"No, something better than magic," said Belle, and Peter raised a skeptical brow while she crossed the room to light three candles that stood on a single stand. "Books. Books on history, witchcraft, and hopefully, something about the Dark One too."

"I'm sure he has all the ingredients for a locator spell," Peter pointed out.

"Do you have something of his stashed in your pockets?" Neal asked dryly.

"If you haven't noticed, we're in his _house_."

"And half the stuff in here is missing, _if you haven't noticed_."

"Well, hello there," greeted a voice in an accent that sounded distinctly foreign—French. Peter looked over his shoulder at Belle.

"Did you…say something?"

"Uh…no?"

"Over here!" The three of them turned to see the candles on the candle stand burn brighter, their flames rising to create the mirage of a man's face. "Allow me to introduce myself."

"What the hell?" Neal muttered.

"No need to be frightened, I am but a humble servant of this castle," said the candle stand. "My name is Lumierre."

"I don't understand," Belle started. "I've dusted every nook and cranny in this place. How have our paths never crossed?"

"It's a _big_ castle," he remarked. "And I was woefully underutilized. Sadly, I only awaken when my candles are lit. Those are the rules of my punishment."

"Punishment by who?" asked Neal.

"Who do you think?" Lumierre quipped, then shifted his gaze back to Belle. "Does he even know where he is? Rumpelstiltskin, of course. I made a deal long ago, and when I couldn't live up to my end he made sure I paid the price…he's not here, is he?"

"No, he's…he's missing," said Belle with a frown.

"We're trying to find him, he could be anywhere in the Enchanted Forest," said Neal. "And all these objects stored here are other people's things he's won in deals, so a locator spell might be a bit complicated…do you know of anything else that we could use to find him, or summon him like his dagger?"

"I know a great many things…" Lumierre trailed.

"Listen, candle—" Peter began, but Neal interjected before Peter could get too annoyed.

"Please, you gotta help us," he implored. "If you don't…I'll never see my family again."

"Boohoo," the candle mocked. "Why should I help find the man who put me in this wax prison?"

"The Rumpelstiltskin you knew may have been cold and hard, but…he's changed since then," said Belle. Lumierre made a noncommittal sound. "If you help us, I know he will restore you to your human form…_please_."

"…The bookcase behind you," Lumierre said at last. "Bottom cabinet. You shall know it once you see it…it's a volume befitting the Dark One."

Belle went as directed, opening large cabinet doors and finding a large book with a leather jacket the color of scarlet, the binding painted with intricate, pale gold designs. She brought it to a small table toward the middle of the room and flipped through the frayed pages. Peter and Neal looked on from either side of her.

"What the hell kind of book is that?" The words were in a language he didn't recognize, and there were some pictures of strange creatures that he had never seen before.

"It's not a book," said Belle, relieving him. "It's a hiding place."

She took out a large key, seemingly made of bronze. On the back of it was a triangle with stray markings along each side.

"Clever girl," Peter murmured.

"It's a key to the vault of the Dark One," Lumierre clarified.

"'The Vault of the Dark One,'" Belle repeated dubiously.

"Where the first Dark One was made," said the candle. "Born out of the…well, darkness. If you wish to summon him it is quite possibly the only place that has something that may help you."

"Will you guide us on our journey?" asked Belle. Peter cast her a glance.

"That may not be wise, love," he said. She gave him a curious look.

"Why not? We can help one another."

"Yes, but perhaps our flammable friend is not as trustworthy a source as he seems," said Peter, casting a doubtful gaze at the fiery mirage. "Let us find the vault ourselves. If we are successful in finding my son, then you can return for the candle if you want."

"But we don't even know where it is," Belle said stubbornly. "Who could Lumierre have talked to for the past years he's been here? No one would dare trespass on the Dark One's castle."

"If your promise that the Dark One will return me to my human form is true, then yes, I will guide you," said Lumierre.

"Seems as if we have a deal," said Neal. "We leave first thing in the morning."

Peter raised a brow. Something about this wasn't quite right, but even without his magic he was confident he could escape any situation they may come across. He wasn't a master of guiles for nothing.

"Fine, don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

They began their journey while the sun was only a sliver peaking over the horizon. Lumierre, his candles put out for now, lied safely in Belle's knapsack. Conversation was idle, mostly between Belle and Neal, until the latter posed a question to the former Lost Boy.

"So what will you do if Rumpelstiltskin can't find Wendy?" Peter admired his bluntness, and though outwardly he showed nothing of his thoughts, he would be lying if he said the question didn't take him off guard.

"I'll track down this supposed Wicked Witch. If my son can't find Wendy, it is because she has been taken." If that was the case, which he was almost completely sure of by now, then there was nothing that could stand in his way after all he had done to keep her at his side.

It was that thought that nearly stopped him in his tracks.

_Is that what I've been doing? I never noticed. _But perhaps this, too, was a lie. Perhaps that was the reason he locked her away, tried the "out of sight, out of mind" idea. It hadn't worked. He'd tried to pretend that the reason he kept her on the island was because she was his to play with, his alone to torment. Half of that was true.

She was _his_.

"The Prince has already deployed a search for those who have not found their way to Sherwood Forest," he continued, breaking himself from his own thoughts.

"How will you join them?" asked Belle.

"You mean considering most of them would like to see me dead?" Peter remarked. "It is not my intention to join them. I can get her myself."

Neal's brows rose doubtfully, but he chose not to voice the thoughts so obvious in his expression. Conversation tapered off after that, until they noticed the air becoming marginally colder as patches of snow met their path. Soon the ground was covered in white, and before long the trees broke into a clearing. Belle retrieved Lumierre from her satchel and Neal set it on a tree stump after sticking the torch he held into a mound of snow. After lighting each candle, Lumierre's face appeared, relieved and possibly excited at the prospect of soon being set free.

"You found it! Thank heavens…"

"Now what?" asked Neal.

"Head to the center of the clearing. Under the ice and snow you should find the entryway to the vault."

Both Neal and Peter brushed away the snow to find a platform of metal carved with intricate symbols, all surrounding a triangle that appeared to be where the key fit perfectly. The two looked at one another, but it was Neal who held the key in his hand.

"After you," Peter said with mock politeness. Neal returned a smile with as much sincerity, then turned back to the candle.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"I spent two-hundred years in Rumpelstiltskin's library, witnessing more dark magic and sorcery than any living creature has ever seen," Lumierre said indignantly.

"I thought he was a 'woefully underutilized' candle," Peter said, growing as suspicious as Belle now appeared.

"Um, I'm sorry, how long did you say you were there?" she asked.

"Two-hundred years! _At least_."

She raised a brow and whispered to Neal, "He's lying." Neal looked up at her in surprise as she stood and faced the nervous candle.

"Rumple _built_ that library for me not long before the curse. It's been there barely thirty years," she said. Both Neal and Peter stood angrily.

"_Who are you?_" Neal shouted, "Unless you want to spend eternity under a snowdrift you better start talking."

"…I am who I appear to be," Lumierre began. "Only it wasn't Rumpelstiltskin who turned me into this wretched form, it was…the Wicked Witch of the West."

"I won't say I didn't tell you so," Peter said, glaring darkly. This is why he needed his Lost Boys, boys who obeyed his every command because they trusted him, knew _why_ he was their leader. They were smarter in their obedience than his grandson and this woman were in their stupidity, though Peter realized that may have been born out of their understandable mistrust of _him_ than anything else.

"She told you to lead us here, the _Wicked Witch?_" Belle said incredulously.

"She wants you to open the vault. Only the Dark One's kin can do it," he said, gesturing to both Neal and Peter. How he knew they were related to Rumpelstiltskin when they hadn't offered that information was a testament to the truth in Lumierre's words. "In it is a powerful enchantment that can summon the Dark One's dagger. She wishes to control him."

Belle shook her head and turned to Neal.

"We need to leave this place."

"Belle wait, that means we can find him. Who cares how we got here?" he asked. Belle looked at him incredulously.

"Rumpelstiltskin didn't save your son and become a better man so he could become a _slave_ to evil."

"My father is the king of loopholes, I'm sure he'll figure out a way."

"What if he can't? Think of what she could do if he was under her control?" asked Belle, placing an earnest hand over his. "We'll find another way to find him."

"What if there is no other way? I can't waste any more time," Neal refused.

"Are you so quick to forget our deal?" asked Peter, finally speaking up in the conversation. It had taken him a moment to decide in his mind what the best course of action to take was, and he still wasn't entirely sure. But going ahead blind was a foolish idea. "If the Wicked Witch gets her hands on such a spell and takes control of Rumple, how will I be able to find Wendy?"

"If we're quick enough, we can burn the spell after we get his dagger," said Neal. "And after we have the dagger, we'll be able to summon my father. The way I see it, this is the only shot we've got of finding him. If you'd rather take your chances with Regina, Mary Margaret and David, be my guest."

When Peter offered no reply, just stared at Neal blankly, Neal moved back over to the center of the clearing and placed the key. He was able to turn it, and the sound of gears shifting prompted him to usher Belle backwards. The metal in his hand grew suddenly unbearably hot, searing flesh and eliciting a cry of pain as he threw himself back and plunged his hand into the snow. The mark of the triangle had branded itself into Neal's hand. Belle rushed forward and helped him away from the platform as it opened up, leaving a gaping hole of darkness. On further inspection, Peter saw stairs that led to the vault below.

He retrieved the torch stuck in the snow while wrapped a handkerchief around Neal's wound. He used his good hand to grasp the base of the candle stand.

"After you," said Neal.

* * *

The Vault of the Dark One was old, ancient. But Rumpelstiltskin had clearly been here before. There were ingredients for spells, some tools that had been left behind but clearly used before. The room was smaller than Peter expected, but big enough that it would take time for them to find what they were looking for. Or so he thought.

"I think I may have found it," said Belle, a worn volume in hand. Peter was beginning to see a trend with this woman and books.

It was open to a page with a rather long incantation and a hand-drawn picture of the Dark One's dagger in the other.

"What does the spell call for?" Peter asked. Belle listed off the ingredients and, luckily enough, Peter was able to find each one and crush them into a powder using the left behind tools. Neal set the substance aflame using the torch, and the magical properties protected the bowl from burning. But Peter hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" Neal asked. Peter glanced at him, but took a moment to respond.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Peter admitted. "My magic was taken away from me."

"But you still have the ability," Belle said. This was the last place she thought they should be, but they had already begun. Any time they spent waiting around was any moment the Wicked Witch could be upon them. "Rumple once told me…once someone has the potential to use magic, it can be relearned, even if it's forgotten."

It was a day she had questioned him on how people could learn to use magic, who had the ability, could it be forgotten, and so on. He had been unusually patient with her on a winter afternoon, the two of them sat near the hearth, and answered her many questions long after the sun retreated. She wanted to understand magic better. Why the power was so appealing.

And now the infamous Peter Pan regarded her silently, weighing her words. He began reading. With every line said aloud, the flame glowed brighter, changing from red to orange to a bright green, until the final words were spoken, and the Dark One's dagger dropped into Peter's waiting hands. There was a moment of silence in which the three, as well as Lumierre, stared at the object, almost disbelieving.

_I…I've done it_, Peter thought. The thrill of magic once again flowing through him, if only for that minute, was enough. It meant he could regain his power.

"Is that…" Neal asked.

"I believe so, yes."

"Can I see it?" It was a subtle test, but Peter caught it. Part of him wanted to hold onto it. The leverage of controlling the Rumpelstiltskin's powers was tempting…but reluctantly, he handed it over to his grandson.

And then Neal summoned the Dark One.

Rumpelstiltskin appeared, worse for wear, as the crocodile he once was.

"Belle?" he asked coarsely. She nodded with a watery smile and ran to him. Peter looked away as the two shared a loving embrace, but his eyes widened when he looked over to Neal.

"_Baelfire!_" His warning was in vain, however, as none other than the Wicked Witch of the West stabbed a dagger into Neal's spine and twisted it, watching dispassionately as the man crumpled to the floor in agony. The weapon in her hand dissolved into smoke, and she leaned down to take the Dark One's dagger from Neal's hand. She circled farther into the room and smiled at Rumpelstiltskin's cry of both fury and despair. He sunk to his knees before his son and half cradled his torso while Belle knelt behind him on his other side.

"Well that's a pity," she said, and her appearance was everything Peter expected. Tall, clothed in black from head to toe, green. Like the storybooks he'd heard of. "He wanted so much to get to his son. Just couldn't learn from his father's mistakes. But I must say, it wasn't hard to lead you in the right direction." The tone of her voice fell flat toward the end as she glanced at the candle, but Lumierre remained quiet, and ashamed.

"There was nothing missing from the castle, by the way," she added. "Just a little illusion spell."

"_How…dare you_," Rumpelstiltskin seethed. But the moment he lifted a hand to attack her, she brandished his dagger, compelling him to cease. He struggled against the opposition, but eventually relented, looked down at his son who struggled for breath.

"It's going to be okay, son," he said gently.

"I rather doubt that," the Witch remarked, then glanced over at Peter.

"Well hello, dear. I don't believe we've properly met," she greeted. He inclined his head, and it was only then that Rumpelstiltskin seemed to notice his father.

"No, we haven't. Allow me to introduce myself," he said, and gave a proper bow despite his mocking tone. "Peter Pan."

"Zelena," the Witch said with a small curtsy.

"Now that we've exchanged pleasantries, I must say it's rather rude to steal what doesn't belong to you."

"Oh?" she asked coyly.

"I think you know as to who I'm referring."

Zelena smirked and crossed one arm, using the other to hold the dagger.

"I do have a few friends staying over at my place, but from what I hear, you're a smart boy, Pan. I'm sure you can figure out for yourself where my guests are staying," she teased, then turned her eyes on Rumpelstiltskin. He grit his teeth, then turned to Belle.

"Run, Belle. Go." She started up the stairs, but paused and turned to see Rumpelstiltskin…absorbing Neal's body into his own.

"Hmm, imagine that," said Zelena. "You've got your son, but you've lost yourself."

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes grew vacant, miles away, as he began to mutter to himself. Belle stared with wide, tear-filled eyes while Peter was just as shocked, but remained outwardly guarded, steeled for whatever the Witch decided to throw at him. He slowly sidestepped his way to the foot of the stairs where Belle stood.

"Rumple?" she asked, tears beginning to fall.

"N-No…not Rumple," he said raggedly. "No room…no room…"

"Enough of this," Zelena said, clearly bored. "Your madness is your burden, not mine. It's time to go. But before we do…kill _her_." She glanced at Belle, who's breath had become labored with her sudden fear and anxiety over watching her love succumb to madness, and now as he looked up at her with conflict in his eyes.

"Move," Peter ordered, though her legs seemed cemented where she stood. Rumpelstiltskin shakily began to stand, making matter more pressing. "Up the stairs. _Now_, Belle."

Their saving grace was Lumierre, who blew a fiery entrapment that wrapped around Zelena's body and mouth like rope, but didn't burn her.

"I can't keep her for long, go! Hurry," said the candle. "Don't make me regret this burst of conscience."

"You won't," said Peter, but before he could push Belle up the stairs, she ran over to the table and grabbed Lumierre, then raced up the stairs as tears streamed her face. Peter was right behind her, keeping a hand at her back to make sure she wouldn't try to double back. He could hear the Wicked Witch struggling against her restraints.

Soon enough they would be miles away and he, despite his better judgment, allowed Belle to take comfort against his side as they walked, until her tears were spent. There was something in her nature, that familiar stubbornness to hold her own against Peter Pan; the demon, child-stealer, and a master of guiles. But also how much of herself she was willing to give, how much she was willing to love.

It reminded him so much—_too_ much—of Wendy.

He missed her.

But even with all of these thoughts, with that clearing so very far behind them, the mingled, agonized cries of his son and grandson would haunt the darkest corners of his mind.

* * *

She woke to blackness.

The only shred of light came from a solitary torch hung upon the wall; it barely illuminated iron bars and stone walls that made up the small cell she found herself in. Then there were the shackles that restrained her wrists and ankles, heavy and rusted with use.

"H-Hello?" Her voice cracked and she swallowed to try and sooth its coarseness. "Is…is anyone else here?"

_Was she alone? _

The thought made her want to scream in frustration and cry at the same time. Had she traded one prison for another?

_I am alone._

And in the dark.

Wendy couldn't help the tears that began to fall.

"_Peter?_"


	2. The Labyrinth

**AN: Thanks so much for the feedback on the first chapter! It means a lot, and it's encouraged me to expand on what I'd already planned for this, what I'd intended to be much shorter than **_**Isle of Thorns**_**. It won't turn out being as long as twenty-something chapters, but maybe ten. Maybe a little less. We'll just have to see!**

* * *

_~Isle of the Lost~_

_Part II:_ The Labyrinth

It was nearly nightfall when Peter and Belle stopped to make camp within the shadow of large boulders, letting the thick trees and forest shrubs conceal them. Lumierre assisted them with building a small fire, and they ate what little Belle had been able to scrounge from the Dark One's castle before leaving that morning. They were still half a day's walk from Sherwood Forest, and it was all Peter could do not to shout in frustration at the near sedentary pace. He missed flying, missed being able to be anywhere upon his island with a mere thought.

There was a great deal he missed.

_But there is a little of my power that yet exists, _he mentally rationalized._ It just needs to be…built up again._

He had _felt_ it. And it was rejuvenating, that rush of cool water, that burst of light among hollow darkness that had momentarily filled him.

"What will you do now?" Belle asked, bringing him out of his thoughts and his silent vigil of the fire. He gave her a cursory glance.

"What concern is it of yours?" Her expression turned peeved at the brush off, and he restrained a smirk.

"Will you be coming with me, to see the others? I…they need to know what happened."

He raised a brow.

"To willingly address the Evil Queen and an entire town of people who would be so very happy to see my head on a stake?" Peter gave a patronizing look. "I am not so utterly stupid."

Belle fully glared at him now.

"And how do you expect to find Wendy?" she asked bluntly. He paused. As much as he would never admit it, this was a valid thought. No matter how appealing the idea, even if he managed to find the Witch, taking her on by himself was less than ideal. The odds of him surviving and getting the information he sought was…not particularly high.

"The Prince and Snow White would never condone killing you, not after the deal you made with Rumpelstiltskin," she said. More likely, it would be him no longer being a threat that would sway their decision. "They would not let Regina kill you."

"You want me to ask for their help," he said flatly. She gave him a pointed look.

"Right, because I suppose you have other plans." His silence was enough of an answer, but he inwardly cursed his own weakness, and this girl for exploiting it. He was already losing his touch by allowing it.

"Despite what you think of me, I'm not so naïve," she said, ignoring his raised brow of doubt, "I know of you, what you've done. What you are capable of. And they know it too."

Not were, _are_, he noted, and he involuntarily smirked a bit at the acknowledgment.

"But I also know that you need help," she continued. "And so do we if we are to defeat Zelena."

Realization made him regard her with new light.

"Ah, you think _their Majesties_ and I will be able to come to an agreement."

"With the right push."

Peter took a moment to consider her words. He counted it a testament to how far he'd fallen. How weak he'd become, if he was seriously considering _this_.

"What did you have in mind?"

* * *

The "reunion" was _everything_ he thought it would be.

Loud.

And predictably a pain in the ass.

Upon arriving in Sherwood Forest, with him concealed in a cloak he had…found, in the Vault, they were told by one of Robin Hood's associates that the Queen had taken back the castle from the Wicked Witch. It was another hour they trekked until finding the place, where the guards allowed Belle through, but not Peter unless he removed the hood and announced himself. Casting Belle an annoyed, knowing look, he obliged.

That was how he found himself being restrained by two guards and dragged across the main hall, into an open meeting room where Snow White, the Prince, Regina, Princess Aurora and Prince Philip stood talking near the balcony, but turned their attention to the sudden entrance of Belle and palace guards.

But predictably, it was Regina who caused the most ruckus, even as Belle began with, "He is not here to cause trouble, he came to talk. And I have news—"

"_YOU!_" Her outrage was nearly palpable, but he stood passively in spite of her fury.

"My, my, Regina. You look well, considering."

He heard Snow White call out a warning to Regina, but he couldn't pay attention to much else after the vicelike grip of her magic began choking the life out of him.

"I thought you were smarter than this, _Pan_," she spat, ignoring both Belle and Snow White's pressing for her to stop.

"Why are you here?" David asked sharply.

"I figured…I would try my luck," he grated out. "I hear…you want the Witch dead…well, _so_…_do_…_**I**_."

The pressure on his neck released fractionally, but her eyes were still hard and ablaze, even if the prospect of Peter Pan's help didn't fall on deaf ears.

"You're powerless," she said with a contemptuous smirk. "What _help_ could you be?"

Then it was his turn to smirk, even as the edges of his vision began to fade.

"Because even now, as I am…_I am __**still**__ Peter Pan_."

Regina regarded him through narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Everything in her screamed to _finish it_, squeeze until this boy was dust upon the wind. But there was a stray thought that kept digging itself up to the forefront of her mind—the fact that even without his magic, the ruthlessness centered so deeply in the fathoms of his gaze hadn't been removed.

He was still just as smart, just as cunning, just as dark and manipulative.

"Regina, you don't have to do this," Snow White practically begged. "He can still be useful to us."

_She __**would**__ be the one protecting such a twisted monster_, she thought darkly.

It was an obvious struggle for her, but eventually…Regina relaxed her hand. It was enough that he could breathe freely, taking in gasps of air as he coughed, but the guards still restrained him by his arms.

"You want to help us?" David asked incredulously.

"It's obvious why he's here," Regina said when a thought hit her, a smirk spreading across her face in satisfaction. "And why he wants my dear sister's head on a plate."

Peter's brows rose to his hairline.

"_That_ is your sister…_truly_," he asked incredulously after catching his breath. And he couldn't help but think,

_But the bitch is __**green**__._

"You may need some verification on that."

Regina looked at him blankly, then back at the others who still seemed wary.

"He's here because my dear cousin is missing." She turned to him with a smirk and feigned sympathy. "Isn't that right?"

Peter glared icily, but shifted his attention to Snow and David to address them.

"Along with some friends of yours, if I'm not mistaken."

David nodded gravely, "Our search parties have found nothing."

"And they wouldn't. The Witch has made it a game of hide and seek," Peter returned.

"That isn't all," added Belle. She proceeded to explain the journey she and Neal had taken to find the Dark One, all the way down to summoning him in the Vault; how Rumpelstiltskin had somehow managed to save Neal, but had also lost himself in the process, including how Zelena had taken his dagger and now controlled him.

"Maybe now isn't the time to announce the pregnancy," Aurora said to Snow, and alerted Belle and Peter to the fact that she _was_ pregnant. "Regina is right, it's too dangerous."

"No, if…if we don't we give into fear, but if we do, we give the kingdom what we need: hope," Snow countered.

"We don't even know what this Wicked Witch wants," David pointed out.

"Us distracted, for one thing," said Peter. "She's playing a game, revealing pieces of it at a time."

"What _is_ it with you and games?" Regina said dryly.

"Actually, we do know what she wants," Aurora broke in before the Queen could continue, bringing in everyone's attention. She looked at Snow White earnestly, apologetically. "She wants your baby."

The other woman paled, and Philip explained, stepping closer to his wife, "She came to us while you were gone, threatened us and our unborn child unless we told her when you arrived in our land."

"She thinks your baby could be important," said Aurora, though her eyes pleaded with Snow to understand. "I'm _so_ sorry, she said she'd hurt us."

Peter rolled his eyes, now knowing why his instincts spoke of something off between the couple. They may be noble of heart, but they were gentle, weak-willed, and no match for the Wicked Witch's power and the intelligence he perceived she had.

But a sudden chill brought him from these thoughts—a breeze he noted at once was unnatural. In that moment, none other than the Wicked Witch herself flew in from the balcony…on a broom.

"And I make good on my promises," she said silkily, and got off of the broom. With a wave of a hand, Aurora and Philip were transformed into flying monkeys, creatures that flew away at their mistress's command.

"What do you want with our baby," Snow White asked darkly as David drew his sword.

"Calm down, sweetie. You don't want to go into early labor." With another wave of a hand, Snow White was frozen, along with the Prince when he tried to interfere, and then Belle.

"Enough, _sis_, your fight is with me," said Regina with a smirk. She strode forward with the intention of making Zelena fly across the room, but was shocked when she became frozen like the rest.

Peter had fought his guards to let him go and watched when they tried to advance on the Witch, only to be frozen.

"You know, Zelena," he started. "I admire your style. You take command of a room, I'll give you that."

She smiled and raised a brow, an "oh really?" gesture.

"What I don't understand, is why you've captured Storybrook residents if you could have easily taken more of an advantage when we landed."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then said, "Well, I needed _some_ way to lure Rumple away, didn't I? Give Belle and Baelfire a reason to look for him…and I suppose I got a cousin out of it too."

Her smile turned wicked and she froze him before he could give an angry reply.

"Now, let's see if this was all worth it." Zelena stepped toward Snow White, laid a hand on the woman's baby bump, and smiled in satisfaction. "Oh yes, yes it was. This child is going to do quite nicely."

She smiled at Snow's fearful gaze and continued, "So take good care of it for me. Don't forget to eat well…I will be back for your _happy_ day…and what's yours, shall be _mine_."

After the Witch had left, her power over them lifted, the Prince immediately initiated a meeting to discuss what should be done to defeat Zelena. Grumpy was told to contact the fairies, have them scour the Forest for enchanted objects, spells, anything that would work against her. In the meantime, Regina posed the suggestion of asking Rumpelstiltskin for help, since he'd warned Snow White the last time of a calamity about to befall her kingdom.

The only problem was, he was being held captive, most likely in his own castle. Even Belle had no idea how to break in. Luckily, Robin Hood was particularly familiar with breaking into the Dark One's castle, after his ever so lovely stay there. Peter hadn't really noticed him altogether until he began to see how his mere presence grated on Regina. For this alone he would vouch to bring him along.

But any mirth he gathered over seeing the Evil Queen peeved melted away at seeing his son.

Rumpelstiltskin spun straw into gold as if his very life depended on it, the wheel spinning and spinning and spinning. He was caged within his own castle—a cage within a cage, and mostly speaking nonsensical riddles and rhymes when they tried to get through to him. Even in Peter's surprisingly gentle prodding of,

"_Rumple…__**son**__, can you tell me if you were with her, with Wendy and the others?_"

He was met with, "_Rumple bumple isn't here. Rumple bumble does not hear._"

It wasn't until Belle touched his hand, earnestly and slowly asking, "How do we find the ones she captured?"

It took him a moment to really see her, but eventually his words became more clear, giving them a riddle they actually had a prayer of answering.

"Round and round and round the bend, without a string you'll meet your end…"

With his other hand he continued spinning straw, slowly now, and more deliberate.

"A winding maze to spend your days…the Labyrinth of old."

"What the hell is he talking about?" demanded Regina. But recognition lit Belle's eyes. She smiled at him and let go of his hand gently.

"I think I have an idea."

* * *

They returned to the castle after Belle stole a book from the Dark One's library, _her _library, technically. But after about half an hour, she found what she was looking for.

"It's legendary, the Labyrinth he was talking about. It was created by a man named Daedalus, and said to be inescapable," she said, showing them a page of the book portraying drawings of people who had wandered the maze and died long before reaching their goal. "It was said to hold the treasure one sought at the center if they could defeat the creature imprisoned there, but most fell victim to its magical snares."

"What creature?" said Regina with her usual snark.

"It doesn't say exactly what it is," said Belle.

"But then what was all that about a string?" asked David. Belle flipped to the next page and skimmed a few lines to remind herself.

"It was also said that the only man who ever made it out alive possessed a ball of thread that he tied at the beginning door post, then got through the Labyrinth by travelling forwards, always down and _never_ left or right."

"Where is this Labyrinth?" asked Peter. Regina gave him a sideways glance, and he returned with a mocking smile. "This _is_ why I've come, after all."

Belle kept skimming, then bit her lip.

"Well…"

* * *

Apparently, there were different entrances to the ancient Labyrinth, spread out as far as other worlds, but one of which was at the western end of the Enchanted Forest. It was a far ride for Peter, Regina, the Prince, Robin of Locksley and four of his Merry Men as the castle was in the far east, nearly a week. Regina couldn't port them since she had never been there, and it was far too many people to do such a thing without help. But every step toward their goal was a step Peter drew closer to Wendy.

He still didn't have the answers he wanted, like where exactly she was in the Labyrinth, but reaching the center was most likely their best bet.

And finally, after a long week's travel, forest cleared away. Green grass met dirt and solid stone, and they came to an archway of stone etched with carved symbols. Beyond it lay a vast and gloomy desert of dust and fog.

"Is everyone ready?" asked David. When everyone expressed their consent, nodding or otherwise, he took out a ball of thread Granny had given him and tied one end around the right leg of the arch. "Keep close."

With that, they stepped through the entrance, and it was as if they'd stepped through a portal. Suddenly there were stone walls around them, tall and enclosing.

"Okay, forward and down if the path calls for it, but _do not _turn left or right," David reminded. Peter let out a long breath through his nose and followed onward, staying alert but as relaxed as he could.

They even made it fifteen minutes before someone did something _stupid_.

There was a wall that blocked the path, but how could this be possible if they were to always go forward? There was no way to turn right either, only left.

"Maybe there is a way to go around," said David.

"No, that would be turning left, and exactly what the book said _not _to do," Peter remarked.

"Perhaps there is a hidden passage within the wall, some kind of switch," suggested Robin. He stepped forward and hesitantly touched the wall. Though the stone was smooth, maybe there was a hollow spot that caved inward. Through all of this, however, Peter could see Regina was getting impatient.

"Honestly, this is ridiculous. Why don't I just blast our way through? It worked with my mother's garden maze," she said.

"This is a puzzle, Regina. Puzzles are made for strategy, a deftness of the mind and a subtle touch," Peter said coolly. "Such a brazen attempt is more likely to get us killed."

"What do you know about labyrinths? Other than that scramble that makes up _your_ convoluted mind," she said tersely and lit a ball of fire in her hands. "Trust me, this'll be faster."

David turned back to look at her and his eyes widened.

"Regina, don't!" But he pulled Robin out of the way just in case she decided to do it anyway, which she did. The fire did little but bounce off a protective enchantment that glowed violet for a moment, then returned to transparency.

"Are you crazy? Don't you remember the last time you tried bulldozing your way through a magical riddle?" David gestured with a hand to where Peter stood, arms crossed.

It was then that the ground began to shake.

"What is that?" Robin asked.

"I don't know, but try and find that hidden switch, _fast_," said David, and both Robin and Little John worked to find anything in the wall out of the ordinary.

"Congratulations," David said to Regina coldly, "You've pissed it off."

"Don't say I didn't tell you so," Peter remarked.

"Oh, shut _up_," she seethed, but then had to fight for balance when the ground shook harder. A deep rumbling sounded behind them, and they turned to see several boulders larger than them rolling in their direction. At that speed, they would be crushed quite messily against the walls.

"Where do we go?" one of Robin's men asked.

"We're not going anywhere unless it's straight forward," Regina said, and pulled up a protective barrier around them that held against the rocks, but it was a heavy strain.

"Any luck?" David asked Robin.

"No, there aren't any lines in the stone…"

"Better hurry up," Regina grated out. Her arms were shaking and the boulders were _pushing back_. It was making her footing slip. David joined Robin's search, putting the ball of thread in his tunic and dusting off the stone parts of the ground for any kind of trap door.

Peter studied the barrier she had created. It was crumbling, and fast. He'd seen Wendy build one by whispered words into a handful of dust.

_What are the words?_

"Regina, what is the barrier spell?" Peter demanded.

"What?" she asked, though most of her concentration was on holding the spell.

"What is the incantation?" She said the words, Latin, most likely. Peter held up his hands, did his best to repeat them, and marveled when he was able to prop up her barrier with his added strength. She looked over at him, shock coloring her features.

It was just enough time Robin needed to find a small brick within the wall that slid inward, making a rectangular door appear in the wall. Peter and Regina were the last ones to come through, but when they did, the door closed behind them and both dropped the barrier spell.

"Well…we keep going," David said after everyone had caught their breath. He took out the ball of thread and led them on.

"I thought you said your magic was gone," Regina asked. Peter smirked.

"Is that disappointment I see in your eyes?" he taunted. "No, it appears I am not entirely powerless."

"Just perfect," she muttered sourly. "You take my son, curse my town, and _get away_ with it."

"How is what I did any different from what you did?" he asked, referring to the Curse he'd tried to reenact. "I acted out of grief, grief that was _fresh_, and caused by _you_."

She looked over at him as they walked. _Really_ looked, then shook her head, turning forward again.

"I finally see where Rumpelstiltskin gets it."

"What?"

"His flair for the dramatic."

"Oh, and you aren't?"

"…Fair enough."

"And as far as crimes unpunished go, you've earned that title far more than I have." She snorted at this, but he raised a brow and carried on, "Look at your own family. You tried killing both of your parents, succeeded with one. You trapped your uncle with blood magic. You're now scheming on how to destroy your own sister, and what you've done to Wendy…well, that's a laundry list, isn't it?"

She was silent, but her lips pursed in annoyance.

"I've been meaning to ask where you carried that book off to," he added casually. Her glare was venomous.

"Nowhere you would find it."

"I'm sure."

* * *

_One Week Ago_

"I…we're here."

She looked up and peered through the bars of her cell. Her eyes widened at seeing a young woman, dressed finely and holding the hand of a man in the adjacent cell to hers. Both were obviously royalty.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" The woman gave a small smile.

"I'm Cinderella. This is my husband, Thomas," she said. Thomas gave a sympathetic smile.

"We were beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up," he said.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Nearly a day," spoke a new voice, thickly accented and belonging to an older man Wendy remembered as Geppetto. He sat in the cell beside Thomas.

"Wow." She looked down at her hands, then back up at how many of them were captured. She recognized Hansel and Gretel and their father, Geppetto and his son, and several others from the journey they had made to get here…wherever it was they were.

"What do we do then?"

An entire week passed and they were no closer to escape. The Witch was smart enough not to capture anyone with magic, except for Wendy, who was still too weak to be much of a threat in that regard. The only attempt of escape had gone terribly, ending with one of Zelena's creatures breaking Thomas's arm.

Geppetto reached through the bars separating their cells and was able to set the arm, but the man was obviously in tremendous pain. It made Wendy all the more guilty, considering it had been her escape plan. But in her heart she knew she couldn't give up, knew Peter was out there looking for her.

Her _cousin_ couldn't keep her here forever.

* * *

"How long have we been walking?" asked Regina.

"Long enough to know the sun should be farther in the west by now," said David. It was still directly above them, as if it was noon.

"Time must run differently here," said Peter. "It seems the arch was a kind of portal."

"Well that's just perfect," Regina muttered. The dress she wore was getting hot, but with a flick of a wrist her magic regulated her body temperature.

"But it looks like we _are_ getting somewhere," said David, looking at the ground, where dirt now met weathered brick.

"That in itself may be a warning. We should tread carefully here," said Robin. But when David stepped forward, the large brick sunk underfoot, and the sound of creaking met their ears.

"Watch out!" said Little John, running forward and ducking as he went. Robin stayed close to the Prince to usher him forward as both walls on either side unleashed poisoned darts hurtling toward them. Regina did her best to knock them away and curb their path with magic.

"What is this, _Indiana Jones?_" she shouted in exasperation, and followed the others down the curve of the path.

They didn't realize the curve veered left, breaking away from the true path.


	3. Run to You

**AN: SO sorry it's been so long since I last updated. The past two months have been absolutely INSANE. No lie. I won't bore you with the specifics (me moving and getting a new car and blah, blah, blah), but I'm back and writing now!**

_~Isle of the Lost~_

"_How shall I win back your heart__  
__Which was mine__  
__I have broken bones__  
__And tattered clothes__  
__I've run out of time."_

– _Pentatonix_

_Part III:_ Run to You

Something wasn't right about this path. The walls curved in jagged, abrupt ways, no straight and smooth as they had been. The ground was still solid like stone, but a layer of dust covered the cracks and lines. To Peter, it was suspicious.

"We need to turn back," he said, loudly enough that all of them would hear him. David looked back at him in surprise.

"What the hell for?" asked Regina, hands on her hips.

"We're going the wrong way."

"And what makes you think that?" David asked.

And then the ground shook, not unlike when boulders started hurtling toward them. It made them stumble apart from one another, and before Peter could get his feet fully under him, a wall raised up from the ground. More specifically, from the cracks in the sand. When he was finally able to stand, walls were closed in on him on all sides. He knew there was no point in pushing against them. Brute strength was nothing against magic if its will was strong.

Peter's fists clenched at his side, white and shaking with the effort of containing himself, but it was a losing battle. There were very few times he remembered being this frustrated. But then again, it had been a very long time since he'd felt this helpless.

"_Goddamn it!_"

"No need to be so angry, Peter."

Every muscle in his body froze. A chill ran down his spine. That voice…it echoed clear in his memory; one he'd willed himself to forget, one he never realized he'd longed to hear again. He turned slowly, and saw her.

"Laela."

She smiled.

* * *

"…Daddy?" asked Regina, though every instinct told her to ignore was her eyes were seeing, that this wasn't possible.

"Yes, sweetheart. It's…it's good to see you," said Henry, with a small smile.

"Is it?" she said, hating the tremor in her voice. "For you at least, I wouldn't think so."

Henry shrugged with that same smile.

"You are my daughter…I understood the pressure you felt, the power revenge held on you." Then he sighed, and it was a melancholy sound. "Was it everything you wished for?"

Tears welled in Regina's eyes.

* * *

Wendy stared at her hands in concentration. Focused with every bit of energy she had within her on that space between her palms, pushing her will over the overly taxed limits of her reserves. Sweat beaded on her brow and her head was beginning to pound, but she didn't relent.

A flicker of orange sparked.

She smiled tiredly.

It didn't matter that a spark was hardly anything, but it was progress. Her magic was slowly returning, which meant that it was only a matter of time before they could attempt another escape. Preferably before Zelena returned.

* * *

Time had not altered her. A kind face that held eyes as dark as pitch, skin white and smooth as porcelain with raven hair that tumbled over her shoulders. She had always been a woman of contrast.

"So, you remember me." The smile teased her lips in a way that dredged up memories long past; of a warm hearth and stews eaten in comfortable silence, eyes that met and spoke without speaking.

"You speak as if I could forget," he said honestly. It was new for him.

"Could have fooled me, considering how you've replaced me." The slight snark in her tone was unfamiliar on her face. She had never had much of a temper. Even when frustrated, she'd had an incredible knack of containing herself and her thoughts. That thought reminded him of something of high import for this situation.

"You're dead. You've _been_ dead." So how was she here?

"And you're a teenager. Both of our circumstances seem odd, don't you think?"

"Well…I will admit, this is high on my list of odd situations," he said, and crossed his arms. Part of him (a strong part) was uncertain, wary of what could only be a mirage of some sort. Not unlike the "people" he was able to conjure. "Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, and stepped closer to him. He allowed it, but now all of him was alert even though his body was outwardly relaxed. "I want to talk."

"What could you possibly want to talk about?"

"Such hostility…" Laela seemed to backtrack on her forward approach, and withdrew, displaying more of the woman he had known so long ago. Someone soft-spoken, compassionate and sensitive, but reserved. "Never were you so."

"I am not the same boy you knew." She looked up, dark eyes boring into his and cutting down to what was left of his soul.

"No," she agreed. "I knew a man."

He didn't answer, didn't let her see the nerve that sparked.

"This is what you have become." Her tone was factual, but her eyes spoke of disapproval. She wasn't impressed.

"Are you here to lecture me?"

"No." It was interesting, he mused, how she could make a single word both soft and dripped with distain. "I'm curious."

"About what?" he asked flatly.

"What you're doing here," she said, "cooperating with those you either hate, or couldn't care less for."

What he didn't understand was how she could know all that, with eyes that said she knew of every day that had passed since she'd parted from him. Peter wanted to ask her.

"It's my business," he said instead. Laela scoffed.

"What, that silly girl?" Peter stilled, and she frowned knowingly. "The child you pine for…I wonder…"

"_What?_" His patience was drawing thin, and she was trying to toy with him.

"I wonder, if for all your tricks and lies, if she will realize _who_ and _what_ you are. If she will care to look upon the monster that imprisoned her and took her family away." He wanted to turn away from that voice. Laela's voice, ever calm and steady, and piercing him to the core. "I wonder if she will then abandon you, as you did me."

"_I did not abandon you!_" he shouted, its echo ringing out and reverberating against the walls. "I had no choice."

"So you say."

"A war was coming. I was one of many men forced from their homes."

"We could have left, taken what little we had and made our way," she reminded.

"Run away, you mean?" Peter scoffed. "A coward's way."

"_And I was left alone_." It was the closest in volume she ever came to a shout, for the first time showing her anger and despair. "Alone I withered away from my worry for you, to care for our son. And I _died_ alone."

Finally, he was able to tear his eyes away from her.

"You speak of cowardice, dishonor, but what kind of man gambles and spends his earnings on alcohol before feeding his son?"

A broken man. A man that had lost years of his life in a fruitless war, and then his wife. What had being honorable given him, but grief and the destruction of his meager life.

"There is shame in your eyes, I never thought I would see," she commented. His gaze flicked up to hers, and his expression was blank again.

"Satisfied?"

"You actually think she will forgive you. That our _son_ would forgive you." Incredulous eyes regarded him passively. "That you can wipe away what you have done, and pretend that she needs you as much as you need her. That he would care."

"Enough." His voice was firm, but tired. He'd heard enough. "You aren't really here."

She drew close to him, slowly, and he watched her as she raised a hand, laid it gently on his cheek. Part of it felt transparent and wrong, while part of him remembered what her touch had felt like, and relished it.

"No," she admitted, a mere whisper on his skin when she kissed his other cheek. "I am a projection of what you lock away…what you fear, and where you are weak."

Peter closed his eyes, and her touch was gone. He opened them again, and she was standing before him.

"Looks like our time is up." She smiled, and her eyes were warm and spoke without speaking. "Goodbye, Peter."

And then she was gone.

"Goodbye."

_Laela._

The walls descended, and he was met by the Queen and David and Robin Hood and his men, all holding solemn expressions.

"This ends," said Peter. "_Now._"

* * *

Essentially, they were trapped in the clearing, surrounded by walls that stretched up to twenty feet on all sides. None wanted to know what would befall those who tried to knock them down, or use magic to vault over them. Surprisingly, it was Little John who discovered their way after leaning casually against the wall, a brink sinking under his weight and activating a passage through one of the walls. It led them to what Peter realized was the center of the Labyrinth, where they were met with the sight of…well…

"_This_ is what we're looking for?" exclaimed Regina. "It's a shack!"

"It could be some kind of portal," said David, who still held the string. It was nearing the end of its tether, but it looked like it could reach the porch steps of the little wooden cabin on the far end of the clearing. But before they could take another step, the wall opened behind them. They all turned at the sound of stone sliding against stone, and marveled at the beast that towered over them, snarling.

It was a minotaur of legend, Peter realized. A large bull with the torso of a man, skin as black as obsidian, eyes like embers. And it looked extremely angry.

Robin's arrows, and even David's sword, made no impact on the creature, merely bouncing off. Its skin was too tough, and it was difficult for any of them to get close to it with the long horns it brandished. It threw one of Robin's men into the far wall when he strayed too close, speared another through the chest with his horn. Regina's fire managed to sting its eyes, welding them shut and effectively blinding the creature, and the distraction was enough for David to get in close. He swung upward with his sword, a wide arch that the minotaur tried to veer away from unsuccessfully, as one of its horns was slices off nearly at the base. The horn clattered into the dirt and the minotaur roared in pain.

"David, get out of there!" Regina called, and with Robin and Little John's flurry of arrows pushing it back, the prince was able to scoop up the horn and get out of range of the creature's massive hooves. When it tried to charge forward, the barrier spell came to Peter's mind, and as he held out his hands it fell from his lips, creating a protective dome around them that the minotaur couldn't penetrate. It kept pounding against it, but Peter held onto his control.

"On three, drop the shield," David called over to him. Peter shot him a dubious look, but when David held up the horn in his hand, Peter's eyes widened in understanding.

"One…"

The creature roared in pure fury.

"Two…"

It rammed its one weapon repeatedly against the dome, making the construction tremble.

"Three!"

Peter let his hands and concentration fall, and Regina and Robin's men did all they could to distract the beast, allowing David to rush forward and impale it directly to the heart. It clawed frantically at its chest with loud and pained sounds, falling to its knees, and then toppling to the ground with a final groan.

Robin immediately went to his fallen men, and both he and Little John silently mourned their loss.

"I'm sorry," David said genuinely as he came to stand beside them. After a moment, Robin turned from who had once been his friends, loyal to the point of death. Perhaps the man's eyes were glassy and red, but no one faulted him for it.

"We must press on," he said, and began walking to the shack. The rest of them followed, and they braced themselves for what would happen once they opened the door. David tied the end of the rope to the doorknob, and looked back at them before turning it.

"Ready?"

"Let's get on with this," said Regina. Peter rolled his eyes, but nodded. David returned it, and pushed the door open.

Inside was a platform that only just managed to hold all five of them, but there were two staircases: one leading upward and one leading down. David had been right; this inside was infinitely larger and was made of carved stone, what he thought resembled a smaller tower of a palace.

"Which way do we go?" Robin asked.

"Well, realistically if they're being kept here, any kind of prison is usually in the basement," Regina said dryly. Robin sent her a flat look.

David hated to admit it, but she had a point.

"Fine. Let's take it slow, though."

Peter wanted to push past him and do whatever the hell _he _thought was the best course of action, but he forced himself to make his way down the stairs at the same sedate pace David was. Regina conjured a ball of fire to light their way in the darkness, as there were no torches hung along the walls. It was frustrating to have to measure his steps and not being able to just float above them. It kept him looking down in concentration.

Then he heard a faint sound. The lightest brush of…feathers? It came from above them.

"Wait," he said quietly. All of them stilled and looked over at him.

"What—" Regina started, but followed his gaze upward. A dozen red eyes peered down at them from the darkness, and screeching louder than anything he'd ever heard reverberated around them as flying monkeys descended. They scratched with their claws and beat at them with their wings, nearly making all of them loose their balance on the open staircase.

But finally, David was able to make leeway by stabbing one with his sword. After that, they became only slightly more tentative in their swooping attacks. As usual, Regina's blasted fire at each one that flew too close, and Robin and Little John managed to bring a few of them down with well-aimed arrows. Soon enough, the remaining few retreated upwards, to where they didn't know, surely to their mistress.

"This mission just became more urgent," Robin concluded as they watched them soar into the darkness.

"Hurry," David ushered, and they went down the remaining stairs as fast as they could without tripping and falling. When they made it to the bottom, Peter nearly sighed in relief at seeing a dungeon of prison cells full of people, some he recognized, some he didn't. David found the keys on the wall and began unlocking each one, promising each of them that everything would be all right, that they were getting out together.

Peter was nearly to the end of the hallway before something stopped him, a flicker out of the corner of his eye. He stilled.

"Peter?"


	4. Resolve

**AN: I'm encouraged by those of you who are saying you're liking where the story is going. I'm SO SORY it's taking me so long to update (this time especially), but I should say that I'm diverging from the season three finale. Whether that's a good or bad thing, you all can decide. **

**But I DO have a plan for this story until its end (and a possible collection of oneshots for after), and I WILL have the next update out within the next **_**two weeks**_**. That's all I'm giving myself. So in the case that I don't, the penalty will be an EXTRA long chapter for the next one.**

* * *

_~Isle of the Lost~_

"_As soon as you are able  
Woman, I am willing  
To make the break that we  
Are on the brink of."_

– _REO Speedwagon, "Roll With the Changes"_

_Part IV: Resolve_

Peter pushed passed whoever stood in his way and into Wendy's cell. He knelt where her chains forced her to sit and took her face in his hands, and brushed away the few tears that fell. She clutched at his shirt and rested her cheek against his chest, reveling in how his hand wove into her hair and the kiss he pressed against her temple.

"You came," she whispered coarsely.

"I'll always come," he said simply, and took the keys from David when he came and unlocked her chains.

The prince regarded them with a thoughtful expression, peering down at Peter with veiled wonder. He'd been skeptical when Rumpelstiltskin told them of his deal with Pan, that the formerly immortal boy would, essentially, voluntarily give up what little power he had left for the likes of a girl. That he'd risk his life by coming to them for help, just to find her.

But they didn't have the time to contemplate it.

"We've got to leave now," he told them. Peter nodded and helped Wendy stand. With his hand in hers they followed David along with the other freed prisoners and travelled up the stairs. Regina and Wendy's eyes met when the queen turned back. Both stilled, but neither spoke. After a moment of hesitation, Wendy inclined her head minutely. Regina, though still maintained her regality, did the same, and turned back around.

Eventually, they reached the middle platform where they'd come in before…but there was no door.

"Great," said Regina. She turned to David. "Of course. The disappearing door."

"It has to be here somewhere in this funhouse," David muttered while feeling the wall where the door once stood. "I'm not seeing any hidden levers this time."

"Any cracks or indentations?" Peter asked.

"No, just solid rock." David sighed and looked up at where the spiral staircase led. A short way up he could see something illuminated by a hanging torch. "But I see a door."

Regina followed the path of his gaze and raised a brow.

"Up there," she deadpanned. David shrugged.

"Best we got," he said. Regina sighed through her nose and started the long climb.

Once in front of the door, it appeared unassuming. Wooden and plain. And surprisingly unlocked.

She glanced at David with a raised brow. Unlocked may mean a different kind of trap. David knew it, and warily opened the door.

They were met with the sight of chaos. A great room filled with stacks of books nearly the height of the ceiling, stuffed with papers that stuck out of the pages; scraps of metal and wood and other paraphernalia littered the floor and occupied space on the long tables, and the loud, whirring sound of sawing wood reverberated throughout the room, grating on their ears. The further they entered, the louder it grew, but just at the far end of the room, a solitary figure sat at an impossible long, wooden desk. Similar to the tables, there was hardly an inch of space to be found in its surface.

At the center the man stood, rather on the short side with a mask over his face as he tinkered with something indistinguishable. But it was small and circular, and metallic, similar to the instrument he used to work on its inner circuitry.

"Uh…hello?" said David, drawing near to him cautiously. The man, back turned to the prince, paid no attention.

"Hello?" he pressed.

"Hey!" Regina called impatiently.

"He can't hear you," Peter said, annoyance evident in his tone. Wendy squeezed his hand, and gave him a small smile when he looked down at her.

Orange and white sparks flew from the tool and the object as the small man worked, and so focused on his task was he that he startled suddenly when David lightly grasped his shoulder. He turned with the instrument in his hand still sparking dangerously.

"What—who's there! What do you want?" He glanced around the room filled with several former Storybrook residents and his eyes widened. "Where the hell did you all come from?"

David held up placating hands.

"We travelled through the labyrinth to rescue our friends," he said, "From Zelena's dungeon. My name is David, though you may know the name Prince James."

The man quirked a brow and peered at him narrowly.

"Nope. Not ringin' a bell."

"Well you may know me," said Regina, raising her head. "Your queen."

He shook his head and turned away from them.

"I ain't got one, sister. Never had, never will." Regina bristled, but David held a mollifying hand to her and addressed the man, who was seeming more and more like a hermit.

"Well, we live in the Enchanted Forest and need to get back as soon as possible," said David. "Would you be able to show us the way out?"

"Now why would I wanna do that?" the man snorted. "Last thing I need is Zelena barbequing my rear."

"So you _do_ know her," said Regina.

"Know her? She took over my damn house and all my schematics!" he exclaimed, and turned back to face them angrily. "At the very least, she let me work in peace."

"So, wait. Let me get this straight," said David, "This is _your_ castle. You built all this, didn't you?"

"Sure as I'm alive. From the ground up," the man nodded, going back to tinkering. "Ain't no one but me who could do it. Though there aren't too many who remember."

David blinked, considering this.

"…Who are you?" he asked. The man finally paused, and looked up at the prince.

"Daedalus."

"…And, how long have you been here?"

The man looked down, his smile without mirth.

"Too long."

"Have you ever tried to escape?" David asked. Daedalus involuntarily glanced sideways at a pile of used scraps—a pile of junk he would not…could not, get rid of. It marked his failures, false starts and crumbled ideas that either didn't work or never reached fruition. His eyes briefly caught sight of crumbled wax.

"I don't need to," he said, and once again turned his back on the prince. "Anymore. Now look, I can't help you. So leave me alone."

David stopped Regina before she could act in anger, and stepped toward Daedalus.

"Look, this is a fortress right? The Labyrinth a part of it. This whole thing is a prison, and this castle is supposed to be impenetrable."

Daedalus glanced at David over his shoulder. A subtle confirmation.

"We have no idea when Zelena's coming back," he continued. "But do you really think she won't be angry with you, knowing we were able to get through the Labyrinth and escape the dungeon?"

Daedalus stilled. Then he sighed.

"Damn it all."

* * *

"The door never appears in the place where you left it," Daedalus explained as they made their way down the stairs. He felt along the wall with a hand. "Makes it harder for anyone to get in or out."

"Ingenious design," Peter commented.

"I know," Daedalus acknowledged. "Problem is finding it again."

"You mean you don't know where it is?" Regina asked. He gave her a peevish look, then pressed down where his hand lay on the wall. Where it had been previously solid, the wall slid inward as its own hidden door.

"Your majesty," he remarked dryly, and gestured for her to go through. Regina narrowed her eyes marginally.

"If you could make it through the Labyrinth, you can make it out," he continued. "Just go straight through the middle. Don't go left or right, no matter what it throws atcha."

"Trust me. We're not doing _that_ again," said Regina, who shared a look with David.

"Thanks for your help," said the prince. Daedalus waved it off.

"Just don't tell her it was me who let you out."

"…You know, you could come with us," David pointed out. Daedalus paused, but after a moment, he shook his head.

"My place is here," he said. "Zelena may think she controls me here, but I built it. Every inch of those schematics is here."

He tapped his head, and then smiled.

"And my secrets are not easily found."

David nodded, and stepped through the doorway and into the sun.

* * *

It took nearly two hours to traverse what took them all morning to get through. The Labyrinth pulled few tricks on them, besides more poison darts and a fluke sandstorm, but they were able to cross into the next part of the path faster than either could stop them. The sun was past midway in the sky, closer to the horizon when the long awaited arch came into view.

Just as they would have passed through, a coil of green smoke collected upward from the ground before them, revealing the Wicked Witch. She smiled and raised a hand when David, Regina and Peter went on the defensive, poising for a fight.

"I'm not here to squabble over trifles," she said. "Just to say hi to my sister…and I suppose my cousin."

Peter grabbed Wendy's hand, pulling her slightly behind him. He knew she wasn't at full strength, both physically and with her magic. When he touched her, he could feel how low her reserves were. He glared up at Zelena along with Regina.

"What the hell do you _really_ want?" she demanded, "'Cause this whole cat and mouse game is getting old quick."

Finally, something Peter and the Evil Queen could agree on.

"Just wanted to see how my distraction paid off," said Zelena. "I scrambled you enough to see just an idea of what you're dealing with, and I've sent me message to your precious Snow White. I could care less what the rest of you do."

And then her smile grew secretive.

"Bigger fish, and all that…Ta."

Regina watched as her so-called sister disappeared as she came, in green smoke and a snap of her fingers.

"She's really starting to piss me off."

* * *

Snow White was visibly relieved when they returned, and welcomed her husband back. She assured him that the castle had been quiet while they were gone, and anyone who didn't have lodgings could stay in one of the many, many rooms in the palace. The offer was even extended to Peter and Wendy, and the latter graciously accepted for both of them. Though some looked on with a disapproving eye as they walked past with the guards, Peter walked with his head held high. Wendy, while more subdued, stayed by his side and tried not to look their way.

It had been a long time since she'd had any cares about social standing or implications; it hadn't mattered in Neverland. Here, things were different. It was both familiar and unfamiliar, the Enchanted Forest, and in many ways it was like coming home. But in others, it was like entering a land that had forgotten her as much as she'd forgotten it.

The room they were given was spacious, like everything else in the palace, and Wendy made good use of the bath while Peter sat on the large bed occupying much of the center wall. A maid would soon come with clean clothes for both of them. In the meantime, it allowed him to think.

_What the hell do we do now?_

Was this to be his fate? To stay in the home of his enemy while his son remained at the mercy of his other enemy? There were still those who would very much like to kill him. Some, he knew, would use anything to get to him. Especially Wendy.

He listened to her muffled humming coming from inside the bathroom and almost allowed a smile. But it stayed a frown with the dark thoughts circulating in his head.

_She's in just as much danger as I am_, he thought. But, as long as they stayed in the castle, within the protection of both Queens and the Prince, they would probably be safer than if they ran.

Peter sighed, running a hand over his face. Even in all this, it was Wendy's decision as much as his. He wouldn't chain her to him. Not anymore.

So he would ask, preferably for her, when she was dressed. Peter's eyes drifted to the bathroom door for more than the first time. He could ask when she was clean and dressed, and more likely to be relaxed. Or…

_She probably won't appreciate it._

It had been a long time since…and with everything that had happened since that time, it was probably pushing things to even think about it.

But Wendy _had_ left the door open, just a crack. On purpose or not, it could be debated. Peter once thrived on technicalities.

_Old habits die hard_, he mused.

* * *

_Shiiiiit. _

She never thought she'd be happy to be in this place again, but living on the greener side of the Evil Queen's castle did have its perks. Wendy allowed herself to sink deeper into the tub and rinse the soap out of her hair. The hot water was relieving the aches in her back and limbs from sleeping on a cold, hard floor for so long. It soothed over her tender wrists and ankles, and washed the prison grime from her body, in her own mind, sliding off like a second skin. Any discolor in the water was replaced by soap bubbles.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath through her nose. It was almost unreal, her luck. How in the hell did she end up here? Wendy didn't have much of a clue. But…she knew that (finally) there was no place she would rather be, as long as Peter was with her. She still had to find her brothers, that much was certain. The rest…the rest, they could figure out in time.

Just when she felt herself nodding off, she heard the door open and close. The footsteps that followed sounded purposefully on the tile, and she knew it was him, subtly attempting not to startle her. Despite the nervous anticipation bubbling in her stomach, Wendy smiled.

"I wondered if you would come," she teased. With her eyes still closed and her back toward him, she couldn't see his expression (though she could imagine). But his steps stopped.

His hands were delightfully cool between her shoulders, gentle as they slid down her bare arms.

"Did you, now?" Peter's voice was close to her ear, eliciting a shiver up her spine. His hands returned to her shoulders and began kneading the tense muscles there. Wendy rolled her neck and moaned at the pleasurable feeling, along with the kiss he pressed just under her ear. His lips hovered there, teasing her.

"You know," he said. "It's been a dreadfully long time."

"Since what?" she asked knowingly.

"Since I've told you, you're beautiful."

Wendy paused, her eyes opening. Slowly she turned to him, where he sat on the edge of the bath, staring into her eyes with nothing short of sincerity in his. She reached up, and with a gentle hand, touched his cheek.

"Why don't you show me."

* * *

When the maid came to deliver the clothes, neither had any idea. But they were comfortably situated in the bed without any use of them by the time they remembered. Both drifted in and out of sleep, especially Wendy, who hadn't had much of it in the past week. But she told him what happened when she landed, where she stood confused in a field of several people she didn't know.

Zelena appeared to them under the guise of Aurora, claiming that the other Storybrook residents had been captured, her own husband included, and she'd barely escaped. But Snow White was able to tell her where she could find help: within the Labyrinth.

"We got through it eventually, but when we got to the center and into the castle, it was obviously not Aurora that led us there," she said with a sigh. "I tried my best to fight her, but…I was still pretty helpless to begin with. What little I could do was blown away. Literally. The backlash alone knocked me out."

For a while, Peter was silent and merely held her. Never had he thought he would be here, feeling the frustration he did at being nearly powerless. These past few days had been that feeling, magnified. It was only dulled now because she was here, with him. And every day she had spent in that cell was entirely, and utterly, his fault.

"Wendy," he started, and stopped, not knowing how to continue. Hearing the tone of his voice, she looked up at him with concern touching her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly. He shook his head a little, almost disbelieving of the words that were about to come out of his mouth. But his hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rested against her cheek.

"Wendy…I'm…" he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

Her eyes widened marginally, and he shook his head again.

"Including bringing you back here," he said. Wendy bit her lip, and a couple stray tears slid down her face. But in spite of it, she smiled.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

Peter gave her an incredulous look.

"How can you say that?" he asked. She laid her hand on his chest, splaying over where his heart beat strongly.

"Because you wouldn't be here now if you didn't care for me," she said. "Whatever happens now—if we stay and help Snow White fight for her kingdom and help your son, or if we find my brothers and leave, we'll do it together."

"We could go," he said after a moment, "and I'll carry out my promise to you. We'll see the world."

But then he sighed.

"Or we could stay," he continued. "And help these imbeciles take back the show."

Wendy laughed at that, only because she how much it pained him to suggest staying in Regina's company.

"I'm game if you are," she said. But Peter was still confused. She hadn't exactly made a decision. He waited expectantly, but she didn't continue her thought.

"…Game for what, exactly?"


End file.
